


Where did it all go?

by LadyAnatares



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Burnout - Freeform, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Self-Insert, and swearing, art versus artist, lots of swearing, mature rated due to implied sex and mention of condoms, non-canon, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 11:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20425550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAnatares/pseuds/LadyAnatares
Summary: Yeah, not sure when I'll be back but I'm going to see if I can't try this 'break' thing out. Also I've been streaming RimWorld on Twitch under a new ID on random nights during the week (one of the ways I'm flexing creatively) - check me out ontwitch.tv/loganthrives.





	Where did it all go?

You grumpily roll on your other side in response to someone trying to shake you awake.

“**_____,**” Sans calls for you, but his voice has a strange echo.

You bury yourself deeper into the warm inviting bedsheets. “Five more minutes,” you whine.

“**open your eyes, sweetheart. something’s wrong.**”

… What?

You open them just enough to survey the surroundings, and then snap awake when you realize that _there are no surroundings_.

Besides the bed, your boyfriend, and your clothes littering the floor, it’s like the entire world has been replaced with an inky black void.

“What’s going on?” you demand. “What happened to… _Everything??_”

“**i dunno,**” he grumbles irritably. “**but we’d better get dressed before we start pokin’ around in it.**”

You look down at yourself. “Yeah, that’s probably a good place to start.”

* * *

“**fucking hell, it just goes on fucking _forever_, doesn’t it? where _is_ everything??**”

He walks ahead of you, practically stomping his feet against the pitch black surface you seem to be walking on. All around you is a shifting, swirling blackness. As you look around sometimes you think you see the glimmer of something off in the distance, just on the edge of your peripheral vision, but when you turn to look at it there’s nothing there.

And yet, in spite of the pitch dark environment you find yourself in, both Sans and you are fully illuminated as if standing in daylight.

“Sans, I can’t take much more of this,” you tell him, sighing deeply and running your hand into your hair. “There’s just _nothing_. Nothing for _miles_. _What_… _How_ do we get out of this? How do we get _back?_”

He spins on his heel and grabs you by the shoulders, face etched in panic even as he holds you steady. “**i dunno sweetheart. i don’t have an explanation for what’s going-**“

He takes in a sharp breath and straightens, turning his head slightly to the right.

“**… i think i just heard a blaster go off.**”

“A _what?_”

“**someone’s having a fight, it’s out _there_ somewhere.**” He points off into more blackness. “**let’s go.**”

He pulls on your arm but you don’t budge. “You want to run into the middle of a _fight?_”

“**it’s the only _anything_ in this entire _whatever-this-place-is_,**” he points out.

When you hesitate for just a moment longer, questioning whether there’s _any_ sanity to be had in this entire situation, he hauls you onto his back and takes off running towards the sound.

* * *

“you’re supposed to be _dead_, asshole!”

“**Sans, you need to calm yourself down _immediately_.**”

Sans halts his charge when he hears the voices yelling at each other.

“… Was that your _dad?_”

“**i hope not.**”

You startle as you hear something _loud_ go off that sounds like a weird sci-fi laser beam followed by an explosion.

Then you hear your own voice.

“Will you knock it off already?! This isn’t helping anyone!”

“since when are you on _his_ side?!”

“Since you randomly decided to start firing _blasters_ at him again?? What is this helping??”

“**… We are no longer alone here.**”

Something heavy sinks to the pit of your soul when you hear Gaster’s voice calmly state that. He knows you’re here.

But… He seems… Softer spoken than the one you’re used to? Plus, why is there _another_ Sans who sounds different (his voice is _way_ softer than even Gaster’s) and another _you_ here?

“**Please step closer, and do not be alarmed,**” Gaster calls out. “**It appears we have found ourselves in a similar predicament. Perhaps through our combined efforts we may yet find a way to leave this darkened place.**”

You slide off Sans’ back to stand at his side, but his hand grips yours protectively and keeps you slightly behind him.

Hand in hand, you head deeper into the darkness together.

* * *

“Are we absolutely _sure_ I’m not hallucinating this whole thing?”

“You and me both, uh, _me_.”

The other Sans is actually a great deal smaller than your mammoth of a man, with straight teeth and white eyelights and favours a ratty old blue hoodie instead of Sans’ heavy fur-lined black one. They’ve been sizing each other up for a couple of minutes now.

But the strangest part of this whole encounter might be Gaster himself.

Sure the two, uh, Sans-es are very different from each other, but this Gaster isn’t the long-limbed snarky fake-suave asshole you unfortunately happen to live with. He’s more properly proportioned, broad in his shoulders and chest like a normal man ought to be. He’s also got this aura of calmness about him, almost as if he’s not… _Plotting_ something, literally _all_ the time. He’s just been examining your boyfriend at a distance with a studious curiosity shining in his eyelights.

Another noticeable difference – his hand-holes aren’t there. You wonder if he never had them in the first place, and why that’s different between him and the Gaster you know.

“so,” the small Sans – you mentally decide to call him Blue from here on out, as about the only notable thing he has going for him is that blue hoodie – speaks up. “if you erased the three of us and sent us to the void, how’d _this_ guy get here?”

The other you starts. “_Erased!?_ Is that what happened here?”

“**Believe me when I say I wish this were a case of having been Erased by mistake,**” Gaster responds. “**Were that the reason I might be able to reverse the magic and restore the three of us to our home. No, unfortunately that does not appear to be the case here.**”

“well you’re supposed to always have all the answers, right? that’s literally your fuckin’ _job_,” Blue snaps back at him.

“Sans, you need to cut it out, _now_. Your attitude is _seriously_ getting on my nerves,” you snap back at him from beside, uh, you. Man, this is getting confusing fast. Maybe third-person pronouns would work here? “At least he’s actually trying to figure things out instead of pitching a fit and throwing magic around!”

Blue looks taken aback. “but, babe… don’t you remember what he _did?_ to my family?” he asks sadly.

She pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Yes, only because you’ve brought it up so many times. But after Ding and I restore Tethis we promised to bring them both _back_. Don’t you remember _that?_”

Blue seethes as he realizes she just used a nickname for Gaster. “since when are you on such friendly terms!? we only just got here and you have a… a goddamn _pet name_ for my _dad?!_”

Your Sans blissfully appears on the other side of you. “Wish I had some popcorn right now,” you mumble to him, hoping the others don’t overhear your sass.

“**right? i was literally just thinkin’ the same thing. don’t know _what_ they’re goin’ on about but this shit’s entertaining as hell,**” he chuckles.

“**I may have an explanation for the confusion between the two of you, if you would allow me to speak,**” Gaster says calmly, clearing his throat. “**Sans, _____... You are not from the same timeline.**”

“what?”

“What?”

“**this is getting _good_,**” Sans snickers as his arm falls on your shoulders. You swat at him playfully.

“**_____, would you care to demonstrate your magic for us?**” Gaster asks. Blue sucks in a breath and your Sans straightens with interest.

She looks over at you and your Sans, you think a bit apprehensively. You wave dismissively. “Who are we going to tell if it’s some big secret anyway? Besides, I don’t know what my magic is yet so you’ll actually be doing me a favour here.”

Then she looks over at Blue, then Gaster, who nods. Sucking in a deep breath, she holds her hands out in front of her…

… And a red ball appears in between them, just floating in the air.

Blue is the first to have a freakout.

“you can use _magic?!_”

She eyes him suspiciously. “That’s like… The very first thing your dad explained when you released him from whatever existence-magic failsafe he had going on? That humans with red souls are mages, and how that explains how I even got pregnant in the first place?”

“_what!?_”

“Hang on, _pregnant?_”

You look at your Sans accusingly, and he’s facepalmed hard into his other hand.

“… Is _that_ why you didn’t want to take your pants off earlier?”

“**yeah, but… we’re with company, sweetheart,**” he protests, his cheekbones fire engine red.

“Never stopped you from being crude before,” you sass him.

He removes his arm from your shoulders and straightens, hands in his pockets with a shameful expression. “**okay, fair.**”

“go back to the part about you being a _mage??_ what is that thing you made, i don’t even understand that,” Blue demands.

She looks at him, then at Gaster again. “… I guess this confirms that. This Sans isn’t from the timeline where you come back and teach me magic, and like… A _bunch_ of other stuff that happened.”

“**It seemed that he might be a different Sans from the one we are familiar with, in part because of how he first addressed me. He did not opt to immediately blame me for this predicament, but insisted instead that I ought to be dead,**” Gaster elaborates.

“hold still a minute and i’ll fix that,” Blue grumbles.

“**My theory was further confirmed by our two new guests that arrived minutes ago, who I assume both hail from a different timeline, or perhaps an entire alternate universe?**”

“**seems like it,**” Sans shrugs. “**and that’s interesting and all that shit, but how does that help us get out of this fuckin’ place?**”

He’s got a point, and it’s starting to set in how long you’ve already been here. Has it been hours? _Days?_ Despite walking for what felt like forever in the darkness, you haven’t actually felt tired or hungry at all, so your sense of time is completely gone.

“**… There _must_ be something the five of us have in common,**” Gaster ponders, his hard chin resting in a bony hand. “**What common thread binds us?**”

“Could it be, uh… Us?” you ask, gesturing to yourself and the other universe you standing right next to you.

She hums a skeptical agreement. “I mean, we’re the only two people who are almost pretty much the same, and didn’t you split the timeline when you came back into the world? Maybe that’s why I’m sorta representing you and Sans here by myself. I don’t know,” she ends uncertainly.

“**No, that is a good point – I did manage to create a fork in our timeline upon my return by countering the young ambassador’s magic,**” Gaster lights up at her, and it makes you feel a bit weird inside. Gaster… Is offering her _praise? Genuine_ praise?

“Okay but, now, what _about_ the two of us is the common thread? Is it _just_ that we’re mages?”

“My magic makes solid objects and can be used to move other solid objects around, but it can’t really do anything like _this_… I mean, _can_ it?” she asks worriedly.

“**I do not believe your magic to be the cause. We have worked extensively to test it’s limits and this event seems to be unrelated to your practice, as you were only in the next room putting the destabilized monster dust into a sturdier container.**”

“Then, what is it? Why are we all here?”

“Maybe I can try and help explain that.”

I step into the circle to their collective surprise.

That’s right. I, me.

The writer.

“Okay so first off-“

“who the fuck are _you?!_”

“Wow, rude. But I guess that’s ultimately my fault anyways,” I shrug. “I needed your personality to change a little bit so that _Blank_ would break up with you.”

She does a double-take. “I’m sorry, _what?!_” You’re inclined to agree.

I think it over for a second, then sigh and kick at some imaginary dust. “Why don’t I start from the beginning, alright? Everyone good with that? ‘Course you are, ‘cause I wrote you. So listen up.”

“When I started writing your world, Blue and Blank, I was in a rough place in my own relationship emotionally,” I begin by explaining. “I was engaged to a guy who turned out to be a sexist selfish piece of shit all along, and while I hadn’t come to terms with that back then, I was missing a major component in my relationship with him that he refused to fulfill – my need for him to be physically close with me, to spend time with me, hell, to even _want_ to spend time with me would’ve been a _great_ place to start. But he snubbed me no matter _how_ many times I asked him if he wanted to do something together, and would bitch at me if I did something by myself instead, like I wasn’t allowed to enjoy things in his absence – an absence that he basically _forced_ on me by preferring to play Diablo 3 all afternoon and evening every single day. It got to a point where the only interaction we’d have with one another the whole day, was when he’d yell up the stairs to look at Skype, where he’d asked me if I was going to make him dinner.”

“_Wow_, that’s shitty.”

“Wait, is that who Drew is supposed to be?” you ask.

“Oh, _no_. Listen – Drew is actually based off of a previous relationship I had way back in highschool. A lot of the stuff I say about him in the stories is actually true, and his story name is actually pretty close to his real name, if you say it out loud. Actually if he ever found my story and read what I said about himself I’d probably never hear the end of it from what few mutual friends we might have left,” I chuckle. “But I moved to a different zip code partly to get rid of his crazy ass once and for all. He hasn’t bothered me since, so I’ve got that going for me, at least.”

“so, what happened?” Blue asks.

“Oh I dumped him – gave him the ring back and he moved himself out. Gave me no small amount of grief over his mail and refusing to return his keys and then got a fancy lawyer to try and scare me into agreeing to a separation that would clear his debt and force me to sell the house. Really showed his true colours. Glad we never got to the actual marriage thing.”

“Around that time, not sure if it was before, after, or during, I started writing Gaster’s branch of the story. There was a moment that I knew was coming up in the original story that I wanted to have a sort of alternate ending to, and that one little idea kind of morphed into what I now sort of consider to be the _true_ story.”

“wait, so – my asshole father is actually in the main timeline?”

“No Blue, yours is still the ‘Core’ timeline and Gaster’s is still a forked or branched timeline. I just consider Gaster’s story better because it has a lot more going for it – making up for old sins, setting up a multiversal adventure, a sexy forbidden romance…”

“**_… Pardon??_**”

“Careful Doc, your cheekbones are showing.”

Gaster immediately covers his face with his hands and looking away, a faint violent glow escaping his solid palms.

“What’s gotten into _him_ all of a sudden?” she asks.

“Oh, you’ll find out. It’s been a long time coming, too. There’s even a whole other prequel fic to explain it. Anyways though, we’re getting off track,” I remind you.

“The other reason why I started writing the Gaster Timeline was to give myself a sort of, hmm… Catharsis? I guess? About finding out my man was abusive all along, leaving him, and then ending up with someone way better and more suited for me as my equal partner.”

“The ‘someone better’ hasn’t actually happened yet, nor do I think it will, but it’s been nice to fantasize about. Again, it gave me a lot of catharsis and a bit of an emotional release when I started writing that story.”

“**so… where do _we_ fit in?**” Sans rightly asks.

“I wanted something a bit different, is all,” I shrug. “I’d been reading a lot of fics for Red and Reader and decided I wanted to try my own take on the pairing. It’d have _more_ conflict and be wilder and sexier, while still maintaining character and building Red up to be an actually decent guy with just a rougher history that made him all hard edges. Like dude, I haven’t gotten into even _half_ of your baggage. I’m saving all of that for when you get _your_ Reader pregnant.”

“wear a condom – wish i had,” Blue grumbles.

“**what’s a condom?**”

“Oh, hun,” you sigh. “We’ll talk later.”

Gaster clears his throat again, still trying to dispel some of the lavender light in his face. “**May I ask… If you are indeed the Writer who has orchestrated our stories, perhaps even our entire lives up to this point, why do we find ourselves in this dark space now, instead of our places in the timelines from where we originate?**”

“So the whole theme here is ‘stories that I wrote based on my emotional wants and needs’, right?” I explain, and get a couple nods. “Except, here’s the thing – I don’t actually _need_ these stories as much as I did a couple of years ago.”

I clasp my hands anxiously together as it dawns on them.

“so… you don’t need us anymore? so, we’re _done_ then. this is _it_.”

“Well, not quite,” I inform him. “Listen… Your stories are _on hold_, possibly indefinitely although I _hope_ not, and I cannot _be any more sorry for that_ than I already am. The problem lies entirely with me, and there are _so many reasons_ why that is.”

“The first reason, like I said, was just not needing the emotional validation through my own works as much anymore. I don’t necessarily need it as much as I did when I was in a relationship. I’ve recently, like within the last year and a half I guess, come out as demisexual, so that’s reason two. It turns out that I only really fall for someone once in a blue moon, and that when I’m not with a partner that’s denying me my emotional needs on a regular basis, I don’t really _need_ to outsource those needs with fanfic and anime as much. For as long as I’m single and not expecting affection from anyone other than my dog, I’m actually pretty stable. Reason three is depression – I hit on a couple of really bad bouts of depression over the last two years, which is something I deal with on a regular basis but these were some of the lowest lows I’ve ever had. It killed me inside that I couldn’t physically or mentally bring myself to do something that I loved so much – writing your stories.”

“I’m putting in a paragraph break because that one’s gotten kind of long, but I’m not quite through with my reasons yet; Reason four is that I’m diagnosed ADHD. I don’t mean to use it as an excuse but more just an explanation of how my brain works – it’s running a different template than the standard ‘neurotypical’ set, and that comes with unique quirks and challenges that I deal with day to day. For the longest time I also wasn’t even on medication for it, so my focus and concentration for anything beyond the basics was utterly shot. Reason five is, well, in a similar vein – when I first started writing the ‘Core’ timeline, I was practically possessed. I even knocked out a few chapters _at work_ and posted them during my lunch time! The comments I got back for them were incredibly validating and it was like feeding an addiction, I _needed_ that dopamine hit during a time when my life sucked so bad. It was all I ever craved. However, my ability to get into that brain-state that lets me write a thousand words per minute has kind of just… _Left_ me. I don’t know where it went, and I don’t know how to get it back, and I can’t force the words without it – it always feels clunky and unnatural when I try, and I don’t like to put something out that _feels_ substandard, even when it’s not.”

“The last reason I’ll give you is at least a positive one inside of all this dreary business; I got a job about six months ago, and I’m working full-time again, and making enough money to start living again, and it’s awesome. But it’s very mental work, and while I love my job it can still be draining on me mentally. For my mental health I actually probably _shouldn’t_ be working a full fourty hours a week? I’m the kind of person that has a mental break if I don’t get enough downtime between shifts, or if I can’t get home at a regular time to see my dog. But I take extra steps to sort of make it work. I spend basically all my free time keeping up with my hygiene, with meal prep, with laying out my clothes in the morning and making sure everything I need is in my purse. I don’t really get much of a break from all the prep work that I absolutely _have_ to do just to be able to work a regular person schedule with a depressed ADHD brain. It’s good work and I _love_ the job and my coworkers and boss but it is _hell_ for me and my schedule as a half-functioning human person.”

“That sucks and all, and I don’t mean to sound self-centered, but… What happens now? Where does that leave _us?_” you ask, gesturing to the group.

“Believe me, I am _trying_,” I tell you. “There isn’t a single day that goes by where your stories _don’t_ cross my mind. I feel guilty a lot of the time when I do think about it. I open my working documents at _least _once a week or so, when I have the time and headspace to read what little I’ve already got there, and I’ll make little edits here and there, or change an idea or how something’s worded, but I don’t really get anything done. It’s a mental block, like I said – I can’t _force_ the writing to come out. And I’ve tried other stories too – I have one with Swapfell Mutt as the main romantic interest, I have one with a whole _house_ of Sans-es based off of a fellow writer’s fic with her permission, I have one using the soulmate and soulbonding tropes just to try it out, and I have some fic ideas rattling around about Underlust that haven’t made it to a word doc just yet. Hell, I even have a _darkfic_ with your gross Gaster _kidnapping you_ as like the central theme!”

You shudder and step into Sans. He wraps his arms around you, gripping you tightly.

“Yeah, still not sure I’ll even post that one. It creeps me out just to write it,” I admit. “But I _am trying_. I am trying absolutely _everything_ I can think of trying to do to get that spark back, that nigh-insatiable _lust _to create that I had just a couple of years ago.”

“But it hasn’t come back,” I tell them. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“This was supposed to be a weird sort of vent fic about how you’re all in Limbo while I’m stuck with this perpetual writer’s block, but honestly I feel just about the same as I did when I started it on the bus this morning. I could have you all sort of reassure me that it’s alright or whatever, but I’d be putting those words in your mouths, so it feels disingenuous to do so.”

“**Well,**” Gaster pipes up. “**You have been calling them ‘our’ stories since the beginning, even though they may have served an emotional purpose for you that is no longer required,**” he points out.

“I basically also use your story to deal with all my deep-seated emotional issues, and you’re _supposed_ to be a genius so it makes sense that you’d pick up on that,” I tell him.

“**Then, given that these stories are _ours_ and not _yours_, _despite _their being your creative works, is there not something that we can do to assist you in finding your creative spark once more?**”

“you’ve been talking to us this whole time like we’re real people or something. seems a bit weird to talk to yourself like that,” Blue points out.

“It’s like an art versus artist sort of thing, I just can’t draw for shit,” I admit without shame.

“**but you consider us ‘people’ or something? not just characters in a story.**”

“I mean, _sort_ of? You’re very well-established characters in my mind, and that makes you _almost_ like your own real authentic people. You know, despite being skeletons in fics based off of the video game Undertale. Now, it’s not like I have voices in my head or anything, but sometimes when I think of a scene it’s like I get an idea that I just sort of _throw_ you guys at and see how you react.”

“Maybe sort of like a Big Brother thing, then. You give us a situation and we react, and you record the results,” you point out.

“We don’t actually _have_ Big Brother in Canada so I’m not overly familiar with the concept, but yeah something like that.”

“Why not do more of _that_, then?”

“Because honestly it feels like I don’t have many good ideas for situations I can just throw at you anymore, and also because I’m very protective of your timelines and canon. I have a whole story planned out for each of you from start to finish and I don’t want to muddy that up with too many unrelated scenes. Oh, and speaking of which – _none_ of this is canon right now, so none of you are going to remember any of this when you leave here at the end of this oneshot.”

“**Unfortuate, but I suppose we will have little say in the matter. Are you planning on finishing this ‘oneshot’ shortly then? You have not yet found a way to continue your writing, nor come to a decision for what you can do otherwise.**”

“_Sort_ of. Like you said, I still don’t know what the fuck to do. I _miss_ it _terribly_ but I can’t force myself to feel the things that got me started in the first place. It’s even become sort of a guilt spiral – I feel guilty for not creating, and I feel guilty that I can’t, and the guilt only increases the longer it takes for me to squeeze an update to _something_ out.”

“what else have you tried?”

“Oh, I’m getting _interviewed_ now? ‘Kay, this is _weird_ but I’ll bite – I tried getting rid of _guilt_, actually, as it’s been one of the biggest burdens on me for this, and for like my whole life with how my shit parents raised me. I tried replacing it with feelings of gratitude, but sometimes I just can’t feel that gratitude as guilt is my default. I’d need to rewire my whole brain over _years _and we’re got a good twenty-some years of guilt to contend with.”

“I’ve also tried writing several books about mental health – particularly my experiences with depression and managing my ADHD, but I haven’t gotten very far with either. I have an interest in psychology but I don’t have a degree or anything to back it up, so I tend to discredit myself before I even really get started.”

“Oneshots, like this one, are something I said I’ve tried – just throwing you at scenes and seeing what happens. But again, it’s hard to come up with ideas and I wouldn’t want people taking absolutely every situation I write about as canon when it’s not. I’m _literally not_ going to have the Underfell cast of skelebois spend a day as _humans_ Coyote, so stop asking.”

“Just kidding, I love you Coyote, but I’m _still_ not doing it,” I have to add. She’s reading this right now, after all. Hi Coyote!

“What else… Well, I listen to some weird stuff as I go to sleep to deal with insomnia, so I’ve occasionally added some inspiration and motivation-inducing binaural beats music to that repertoire, but haven’t had much luck. I’ve also tried staying up all night on purpose, with sugary beverages and my laptop open and ready to write to no success, because I felt that some of my best writing was usually done at about three in the AM or so. I’ve also just tried to think of what wacky, yet realistic odd little thing I could throw in there for mild humour where people could just go ‘lol same’. Really guys, I just feel sapped of ideas and of energy _all the time_ now, I _don’t know_ what to _do_.”

“maybe you don’t have to do anything.”

I look at Blue in mild shock. “I _have _to finish your stories, I promised literally everyone that I would, _eventually_, at least.”

“**yeah, but you’re _trying_ too hard, sweetheart. take a fuckin’ _break_. i ain’t even _known_ about you until today and your going ‘round in circles is makin’ _me_ sweat.**”

“I tend to over-analyze and over-explain a lot. Comes with the territory of trying to have a cohesive narrative. Or maybe I take after my bestie Mike a bit there.”

“But, if you look at the length of time since the last updates on each of your stories, wouldn’t you say that I’ve already had more than enough of a break?” I counter.

“**Perhaps it has been a great deal of time since you last _updated_ one of our stories, but you have not truly _rested_ all this time. You said yourself that you regularly think about our stories and attempt to work on them on a daily or weekly basis.**”

“_So?_”

“So, you need to _rest_ before you _implode_,” you tell me.

“… I don’t know that I can _do_ that. I don’t know that I can really disconnect like the way you’re suggesting. I mean, I _am_ trying other things to sort of ‘stretch out’ creatively, but I always try and make room for my writing. It’s very important to me that I keep writing.”

“yeah, but this is like, _way_ past burnout. now you’re just being stubborn about it.”

“I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t stubborn ninety percent of the time.”

“Well, you can stop being stubborn about this. You said you have a full-time job now, right?” you point out. “You can’t _not_ keep doing that, but you _can_ stop trying to do all of _this_ at the same time.”

“Then what else do I do? I want these stories to continue. I’m actually a bit afraid that if I don’t touch them on a regular basis, that I’ll abandon them without meaning to, that I’ll _forget_, and that I won’t get to finish any of your stories.”

“We’re _people_ to you, right? You don’t forget _people_.”

“As much as the both of us wish we could,” I smirk at you.

“_God_, if _only_,” you roll your eyes, chuckling.

“**how about we just wait for you until you’re ready?**”

“Then I’ll feel guilty that you’re waiting on me to continue, y’know, _being_.”

“**_naw,_**” Red shuffles to the floor and sits cross-legged. “**i’m not going anywhere either way, so why stress yourself out so much about it?**”

“**_Exactly,_**” Gaster interjects. “**Our stories rely on _you_ to continue being told, however, whether you choose to continue trying to force yourself to produce more of our stories, or whether you decide to give yourself a substantial – and clearly needed – rest period, we will remain here either way.**” 

“Won’t you think I’m an asshole for making you hang out in basically Limbo for so long?”

“We may be people to you, but we’re not _actually_ people, and you _know_ that,” you say.

“why’re you still resisting the idea of taking a break anyways.”

“I’m ADHD. I don’t know what a break _is_. I’ll give myself anxiety just _thinking_ about stopping in the middle of something.”

“Well, you don’t really have anywhere else to _go_ with this, _do_ you?” you point out.

“I don’t. I guess you all submitting to the idea of having a break with or without me is my way of wrapping this up real soon,” I admit.

“**work on other things for a bit. _seriously_, just find a way to relax for once. we’ll be here for when you get back.**”

“… Thanks. That… Actually helps a little bit, even if I’m crying over the thought of letting you all go.”

Gaster comes over and gives me a hug. It feels just about like what you would think it would feel like, getting hugged by a fictional character of your own making. But I guess I need a hug right about now, so this is how I’m getting one.

“**You are not letting anything go. You are simply attending to your own need to rest. No one can truly fault you for that,**” he reminds me.

“People _will_ try.”

“**Ignore them.**”

“I do my best.”

“_Well_,” I sigh. “I guess I’ll see you all on the other side of this ‘break’ thing I’m going to try.”

“Get out of here already before I_ throw_ you out!” you warn.

“_Sheesh_, I was _rude_ at twenty-five,” I point out.

“Still are! Get gone, you!”

I exit the fic, like I’ll exit out of the other fics open in the background taunting me in all of their incomplete glory. I still don’t know how this is actually going to work with my brain, as I can’t let go of things so easily, but I do have some other creative endeavours I want to try out a bit more.

“_So_,” you begin, eyeing your bonefriend up and down. “You can get me _pregnant_, huh?”

“**fuck’s sake…**”

“_condoms_, dude.”

“**i’m not gunna remember that. this ain’t canon, remember?**”

“oh, right.”

“Well, thanks for not knocking me up our first time,” you nudge him.

“Unlike some people,” the other you rolls her eyes.

“let’s not start this again, okay?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, not sure when I'll be back but I'm going to see if I can't try this 'break' thing out. Also I've been streaming RimWorld on Twitch under a new ID on random nights during the week (one of the ways I'm flexing creatively) - check me out on [twitch.tv/loganthrives](https://www.twitch.tv/loganthrives).


End file.
